Just Breathe
by HelenVanPattersonPatton
Summary: The night and morning after their relationship changes. Nearly plot-less Casketty goodness.
1. Chapter 1

Kate is more surprised than she really should be to find the shallowly snoring body on her couch. Hmp. He should have left when she told him to. But when does he do what she says? It shouldn't be a surprise. She pauses only briefly before remembering what brought her out of her bedroom and pads to the kitchen sink, pours a tepid glass from the tap. She should wake him up. Kick his ass. Make sure he leaves this time. Kate sips her water.

Apparently her reflexes have been dulled by sleep. She doesn't hear him get up. Doesn't feel him walk toward her. But she feels his breath skirt the edge of her nightshirt at her neck. Feels the vibrations when he speaks, low and gritty with sleep.

"Beckett."

"You should have gone home, Castle."

He says nothing. Breathes in and out, his hot breath on her back suddenly making her feel cold.

"Why are you still here?"

"Kate."

She won't turn and look at him. She's not afraid - of course not. Kate breathes out in time with him and takes a measured sip of water. The mountain comes to Mohammad. He steps in closer, crowds her, but doesn't touch her, just barely far enough away that their bodies don't touch but his shirt brushes hers. It makes it not so easy to breathe steady. She shuts her eyes and clenches her jaw, that tendon bulging, making itself known. She's mad at him. He's being insufferable. Pig headed. He's not being thoughtful. He's being an ass. She tries to keep telling herself that.

"You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving you, not while he's out there. You might as well stop telling me to."

"I don't need you protecting me."

"Ha!"

His laugh, right in her ear, shoots like a bolt down to her toes. It makes her flinch.

"We've been here before, remember. I'm not trying to protect you. Not equipped as it were."

"Then why are you still here, Castle?" She hates herself that there is a tremor to her voice when she asks him, just a whisper.

Her answer is him placing wide, flat palms on the counter on either side of her. He still doesn't *touch* her. Angles his head and releases a hot breath through his mouth under the line of her jaw. If she doesn't set her glass down she's going to break it. She sets it down, takes a breath. She's mad at him. She's not mad at him. Shit. She wants to be; needs to be. She also needs to take another breath. Why is that a hard thing to remember to do all the sudden?

"Kate." Castle's lip ghosts the shell of her ear when he says it. So low she feels it more than hears it. She can't take this.

Kate leans back, away from the counter. She's not sure why she does it. Is it to move away him, regain the upper hand? Or is it to finally make contact with him? His arms are solid in their place. That wouldn't deter her if she really wanted away from him. They did stop her though. Now she finds herself leaned against his chest, head lolled to the side making a perfect home for his neck and chin. He finds that home. They join like chain-link.

This is NOT what she wanted. Clearly the fight or flight response crossed its wires with the snuggle with your partner wires. That's a dangerous mix-up. There will be hell to pay. She means to move. Plans on it. That's what she's going to do. Only she doesn't. Kate is too preoccupied. This is a first and her brain is too busy collecting data like a horny anthropologist. She didn't expect his neck brushing against hers to be quite so soft, warm. Certainly didn't expect the day old scruff on his check to spark like a flare when it hit her jaw.

Despite being leaned against him she feels like she's about to lose her balance. She needs to brace. Her hands go out to the counter searching for an anchor. They find his hands instead. Did she do that on purpose? Are her hands traitorous too? She starts to move them but as they make their retreat, nimble fingers brushing up the hair on his wrists and forearms, against the grain, she leaves goosebumps in her wake. Goosebumps. Where else can she get a rise out of him?

What is she thinking? She has to get away. She leaves her hands on his arms, can't seem to remove them, but she needs distance. Kate leans forward, breaking the chain, bows her head and tries to suck in as much air as she can. Hm, this doesn't help. When her front hunches over her lower half parries the momentum and recoils back like a canon fired, stopping only when she hits him. That is so, so much worse. She hopes he'll take a step back. That's a lie. She doesn't know what she hopes. She wants to know, finally, what he'll do. It's been *years* and Kate has, NEEDS, to know the answer. It takes about ten seconds but she gets it. He takes a step forward; pushes her into the cabinet. Not hard but sure.

Kate doesn't expect it when his lips brush her spine through the rice paper thin cotton t-shirt. Takes what little breath she has away. Oh god, is he smiling? She could swear when the breath evacuated her lungs she could *feel* him smiling into her back. It makes her want to beat the living shit out of him, smug bastard assaulting her in her own kitchen. More than that it makes her want to fuck him. She's in big trouble.

He works his way north. The smile, if it was ever really there, has vanished. He's all serious. Past her shoulder blades he finally makes it to the top of her shirt. It's his Everest and he makes camp there. Castle works tirelessly exploring every possible bit of skin, tasting, as if he would find a bit that was different, softer, sweeter. Apparently he is on a data collecting mission as well. It tickles the baby hairs that curl at the nape of her neck under her ponytail every time he exhales. It doesn't seem like that little thing would be one of the most arousing thing in the history of Things-That-Turn-Beckett-On and yet…

She desperately wants to turn around now. Face him. She realizes she hasn't even seen his face in hours. Not since she yelled at him for hovering and driving her insane and told him to leave. She wants to see his face. There's so much to catalog there especially. But she's just too hungry to know what he's going to do next to think about moving.

Ah, her ear. That's what's next. Seems like an obvious choice – one that she is happy with. He finds that softest of all spots, the one right behind where the lobe connects, and relishes the discovery. Teeth come out to play. Oh that's good. That's very good. If Kate Beckett had it in her the sound leaking from her lips would be a purr. But no. Kate certainly does NOT purr. That mustn't be what that sound is.

That's it. No more investigating. Castle brings his right arm up, hers naturally coming with it, up to her waist and tightens his grip. He pushes her into the cabinets harder now. Hip bone collides with a drawer-pull painfully. Kate's hips shoot backward, equally hard, against him in reproach. This starts a pattern. Oh. Pain be damned, this is worth it. His lips leave her ear not even long enough for Kate to grunt her displeasure before he twists over her, bending like sweet grass, to find her mouth, hot and open.

That's when it breaks to pieces. Kate turns in his arms; bites. Castle yanks at her hair hard enough to make her eyes sting with tears. Legs are being pushed between legs, zippers snicking, seams screaming as they rip, nails scrapping - breaking the skin. Kate's lungs hurt. She slides onto the counter and she can't catch her breath; hopes she never catches her breath.

Castle was right to stay. Kate doesn't need protecting. Doesn't mean she doesn't need him.

A/N: Someday I might actually write a story with plot. As it is sexy-times are fun. Also, this has not been betaed. All mistakes, of which there are plenty I'm sure, are mine.

This wasn't really set in any particular time-frame. It's obviously after Dunn blew up her apartment ("we've been here before, remember"). It's possible to fit it in with the upcoming sniper case. Thinking about perhaps a prequel or maybe a morning after. Maybe not. For now though it's a one-shot and it is complete. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Prologue to Chapter 1. **

**OOOOO**

_ He shows up empty handed. It feels wrong. He should have something to offer; wine, Chinese food, a pretense, something. But that would take too long. He hadn't the patience to stop and buy something. Little is open anyway. He needs to see her now. It's ridiculous. He just left her three hours ago. She's fine; got a text 45 minutes ago replying to his proving that she's fine. Apparently that's not going to be enough. Maybe someone had her phone. Text isn't the same as a call. He hadn't heard her voice. That wouldn't be enough either. Someone could force her to talk, gun to her head. He shouldn't picture that. Picturing that is what brings him to her door so late. That image, a branding iron searing him, the only thing giving his hand the strength to raise his fist and knock. _

_She'll be mad at him. It's midnight. Or close enough to midnight. Suddenly after the reverberations quiet in the hallway - so loud knocking on her metal door – he feels immensely foolish. Of course she's alright. She might even be asleep. This was a bad idea. But he's here. He knocks again. _

_Kate opens the door with slumped shoulders and gun in hand._

"_Castle?"_

_She opens the door just wide enough for him to slip through. This is his invitation to enter. He doesn't have to ask anymore; she doesn't have to offer. _

"_What are you doing here?"_

_Yeah, he should have stopped to buy something, anything. He yearns for that pretense now. Damn. He could have grabbed a bottle of wine from his own kitchen. Why is he just now thinking of that?_

"_I was in the neighborhood." _

_Kate's eyes narrow to points. Okay, not funny. The truth then. _

"_Couldn't sleep. I figured you would still be up. I just want…wanted to check." _

_So not ALL the truth. He couldn't seriously say _"I'm terrified that you're not okay. Terrified that something bad is going to happen to you. I needed to see your face so that I can take the first deep breath since I left you. Need to 'accidently' brush my hand against yours so I know that your skin is still warm and your heat is still beating." _Couldn't say that could he? Even in his own head the weight of how unattractively needy that sounded bogged him down. So not all the truth. _

"_To check…" _

_Kate knows exactly what he means by that. She's waiting, gallantly, or maybe a little hopefully, for him to change his story a second time. Nope. Not going to happen. That's what he means, no fabricating here._

"_I'm checking on you, Beckett. You scared the crap out of me today." She tilts her head and presses her lips together. "I'm prepared for your mocking now. Come on. Let it out."_

"_I'm fine. I don't know why you're worried about me. The shooter wasn't *aiming* at me. I just got in his way."_

"_He was aiming at you. He almost shot you. Just two inches…" _

"_Castle, it's over. Let it go. Go home. Get some rest."_

_He steps further into her apartment. He has no clue what he's doing, why he's pushing this. It's not what he came for but he can't let it go._

"_It's not over, Kate. He's still out there. Why doesn't that bother you?"_

_Kate slams the door with force enough to rattle the dishes in her cupboard and his teeth. He mentally asks forgiveness from her neighbors for the door slamming and the yelling. Yelling hasn't started yet but it's about to, he can feel it; that Geiger counter that alerts him to an oncoming argument that will send tremors into the ground. That little counter stayed on high alert almost the entirety of his first two marriages. Little good it does. Where is that scratchy line reading of impending doom *before* he's an ass and picks a fight he doesn't even want to defend? _

"_What's your problem?" _

_Yep. There it is._

"_You're my problem. Why are you so cool about this?"_

"_It's my job. Am I supposed to tie myself in knots and cry myself to sleep every time some asshat shoots at me?"_

"_Don't do that. Do make this sound like some run of the mill day at the office. You know why it's different. You could have died today. If you hadn't turned at the last…" His throat is not closing up. It's just hot in her apartment. In November. _

"_It was random. No one's trying to kill me. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

_No. Walking down the street and a man raises a gun, fires, misses her head only by two inches because she turned to say something, bullet imbedded in the metal of the ATM level with her face? Not random._

"_No one's trying to kill you? You *WERE SHOT* six months ago! You *literally* died. Do you not remember that because I sure as hell do."_

"_Get out."_

_No. No, no, no, no. This is not what he came for. He wants to touch her hand. He's making this worse. He's scared and he's taking it out on her. What an idiot. _

"_Kate." _

_He reaches for her, makes it all the way so that he makes contact with the tips of two fingers before she jerks away. His fingers buzz with her. Surely she felt the sting too. _

"_Why are you doing this?"_

_Hmm, how much of the truth to tell this time? Screw it. He's already in too deep as it is. _

"_I'm sorry. I didn't come here for this. I…" He doesn't even know what he's going to say. I'm scared? I love you? I need to touch you to make sure you're not slipping away? I need to feel your heart beating so that I know you're really still here; that you didn't die six months ago and again today?_

"_Castle, I'm tired. I can't talk about this right now. I'm sure you mean well but right now you need to leave." _

_Kate strides back to the front door, opens it, turns, brushes past him without a look, and closes her bedroom door behind her. _

_He wants to follow her and push the door open. Push her open. He thought coming here and seeing her would be enough but it's so not enough. It's like a tiny bit of heroine satisfying an addict – once you've tasted it a little is never enough. His fingers itch. What would she do if he walked into her bedroom right now? If he put a palm on her chest and a mouth to her pulse for proof of life? Would she allow him? Or break his arm; shoot him? He wants to, god he wants to. But even that little taste of heroine is better than having to go cold turkey at gunpoint. _

_Castle walks to the door. Nope. Can't do that either. He may not have the balls to walk in there and take what he wants but he sure as hell isn't tucking his tail between his legs and leaving. She says she can't talk about this now because she's tired? Well then he'll be here in the morning when she's not. _


	3. Chapter 3

Kate studies her reflection in the mirror. Her skin is red. Red-red as if she were covered with hives. It still burns, sensitive to the touch, prickling all over her skin, jabbing deep down into the tissue. So much blood raised to the surface and thumping in her extremities, even still, that it pumps weakly through her veins, gasps to oxygenate. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, her heart trying its best to catch up. Her head throbs from her holding her breath for so long. She didn't mean to. Just couldn't do anything about lungs with a mind of their own. She told them to inflate. They told her to focus.

The rash of crimson rising on her face, around her mouth, down her neck, chest, inner thighs - everywhere his face with pin-like whiskers has been - startles her. It grows more noticeable with every passing second as her skin cools down and pales, throwing it into sharp relief. The remainder of the searing flush will recede back to its rightful home soon but the steel wool etchings will last a while. Proof.

Oh god. Did that really just happen? No, of course not. The crescent sting of teeth marks on her shoulder scream otherwise. So yeah, she just had sex with Castle on her kitchen counter at 4:00 in the morning. Time doesn't really matter though does it? Sex with Castle. Right. Oh god. She's going to need to Clorox that counter before she uses it again. For cooking.

He's out there right now. It's unnerving when she thinks about that fact it unleashes a fluttering hoard. He's out there. Right now. Waiting. She needs to pull it together. Stop that little smile that crooks the corner of her lip. Come up with a game plan. Memories are pushing their way to the front of the line making it hard to think of much else. This is not how she thought it would happen. Fine. She's thought about it. She can admit that. But she thought that it would be…different. Probably because her mind would have burst into flames and she would never have been able to look him in the eyes again if she sat around picturing what just happened. She hadn't been expecting such aggression, almost vicious in its unrelenting. That was just from her. He was worse. Almost four years worth of pent-up sexual frustration directed at one another combusting, creating a backdraft, going up like a tinderbox. She wears the burns to prove it.

If it was just sex she could leave the bathroom. If he was just her partner she would have already left. She's screwed. Figuratively. It's… She knows what it is but even in her bathroom mirror she won't admit it. It's complicated. He's more than her partner. More than her friend. Was he now her lover too? Wow. That feels strange. Not bad. Technically accurate but really is that what he is? No. What's going on here, with them, is too complicated. Needs its own term. Castle could probably come up with something clever… Yeah she'll just get him right on that. Shit. What is she going to do?

Kate is not hiding in the bathroom. It just takes time. Pee. Wash hands. Brush teeth. Redo ponytail. File that hangnail. Redo ponytail again. Stall. Stalling's not the same as hiding. She'll come out, just has to collect herself. Kate looks to the clock on the wall. Has she really already been in here twenty minutes?

What if he took her momentary retreat as a rejection and left? No. Not even if he misunderstood and thought it was a rejection would he leave. Not Castle. Enough of this. She turns the handle and pulls.

He's wearing shoes and putting the broom and dustpan away when she comes out. Oh yeah, the water glass. She'll need to remember to pick another one up at Crate & Barrel next time she passes one. Or…

"You owe me a glass."

He laughs then thinks better of it and mocks a frown. "I'm not the one who broke it. And I was nice enough to clean it up."

"You made me break it. And I call cleaning it up a sign of guilt."

"Blame shifter." He turns so she can get a good look at his shoulder. "What about this?" He presents the two inch tear at the seam.

"You can fix that."

"There's blood on it."

"Whatever, there is not." She takes a closer look. Oh. An umlaut no bigger round than pencil leads drying black.

"Well it's your blood. Not my fault."

"From where *you* scratched me."

If he wanted to go tit for tat in all the ways they marked each other she could show him the bite marks on her shoulder. "I didn't hear you complaining at the time."

He gets that look in his eyes she has just now become intimately acquainted with and it makes her stomach clench.

His voice drops. "Call it even?"

"Deal."

They stand there looking at each other. They do that. She knows she should say something. Something to advance them, hurdle-jump them right past any awkward silences or, worse still, them having to talk about it.

"Would you like some coffee?" It's still so early. She has more than enough time to go back to bed and get a couple more hours sleep. But what to do with him? Take him with her? That seems dangerous and she doesn't know why. She certainly doesn't want him to go. Coffee seems like the best choice. She selects the highest octane pod (her favorite) from the wire basket and inserts in it the little pot.

Castle reaches for her, snags her hand.

"Kate."

She stops and turns but when she sees his face, sees where he's heading, she panics. She jerks her hand away.

Her words bite. "No, Castle. Don't."

It would have been just as effective to have picked up her sig and shot him in the chest. She honestly didn't mean that the way it must have sounded. He could touch her hand, hold it, her. She just couldn't talk about *them* right now. It was too much too soon.

He turns and for a moment she thinks he's about to bolt through the door. He walks over and slumps at the end of the couch instead. Scrubs a hand across his face as if he's trying to rub something grotesque off.

Damn. She can fix this. She goes to him, kneels in front of him, pulls his hand off his face.

"Hey."

She finally makes his eyes meet hers. Wow. It's all there. She hurt him. How was that so easy?

"Here," she laces their fingers together and clasps.

He's surprised. And confused. Huh. Maybe that's not the problem.

"I'm sorry."

He says it, not her. Wait, what?

"What? Why?"

"I know better. I know the rules. I was about to push. I shouldn't."

Well that stings a little.

Though she did just panic when he tried to start a conversation. And she had been hiding in the bathroom. Okay. Maybe she's a little closed off. She can fix this too.

She scoots forward on her knees and pushes her way between his legs, a hand on his thigh.

"Have we ever been here before?"

"What?"

She tilts her head and doesn't repeat herself.

"No."

"Then don't assume you know what is going to happen."

Oh. Surprise again, this time the good kind, and a slow moving smile. She releases the breath she didn't mean to hold. God that feels good. She wants to take him by the good kind of surprise more often.

"Yeah?"

She smiles. The big one. The one that crinkles the side of her eyes, shows that tiny sliver of upper gums on the side. The smile she saves only for him. "Yeah."

He wants to kiss her. Is about to. So she beats him to it. Light and testing. She's had his mouth, gone spelunking there, knows its depths, now she was to map the ridge of his lips. He knows what she's doing and lets her, doesn't try and change it. Just places a hand on her waist. She studies, lavishes and creates her topography.

With a sigh she pulls away but leaves the finger that curls around the top of his ear.

Everything she didn't allow him to say in the kitchen is pooled in his eyes. She sees what she refused to hear. That's alright. She can handle it this way. It's only fair too. Because she's about to show him everything she's too scared to admit.

Kate stands up and he gurgles a protest, words catching in his throat.

She tugs at his hand.

"Come on. Let's go to bed."

Eyebrows shoot to the heavens. Oh yes. She's going to *love* surprising him.

**A/N: This has not been betaed. All mistakes grammatical and otherwise are mine. **


	4. Chapter 4

They stumble into each other in the darkness of her bedroom. She stops to switch on a light and he doesn't. Right hands still clasped he smacks right into her back, awkwardly twisting her arm around, and she laughs. Kate Beckett laughs - beautiful, smoky, and low. So contained that if he had been two feet away he would have missed it. It thrums up his arm and imbues his chest. It clutches at him and pushes the air out of his lungs in a huff strong enough ruffle the stands of her hair in front of his face. Pushes everything else in him out that isn't her. She takes up all the free spaces, this woman who's leading him into her bed. Never had he pictured this.

He's thought about being with her. Of course he has. Like every time he catches that smile she saves for when his back is turned, when she thinks he doesn't see. How could he not lose time fantasizing about new and inventive ways to make her smile? But never had her bedroom, **her bedroom**, come into his mind. It would have been taking too much, an invasion. And yet here he is - Kate leading him by hand into her bed. It gets him. Make his eyes briefly threaten to betray him with moisture. They had sex, now she is offering him intimacy.

She goes to the trunk on the other side of the bed and produces an extra pillow. She never lets go of his hand, just drags him with her. This is curious. Kate's not remotely clingy, dislikes that trait in people. She's not even really a toucher. So what's this about? He wants to ask her but then she might take her hand away. She tosses the pillow on the vacant side, *his side*, and pulls hers from its encroachment of the middle so that they're even. Switches off the light, pulls back the covers, slides in, never letting go of his hand. He stands over her momentarily. This will only work one way without letting go. He starts to crawl over her. She stops him when she finally takes her hand back. Damn.

"Take off your pants."

Oh. Excitement tingles at the back of his neck. Only she doesn't mean it like that. She's not wrong. He'd smother if he tried to sleep in blue jeans. He takes them off, drapes them over the chair and starts to move around to his side. Wait, uh-uh. He had the right idea the first time, hand or no hand. He crawls over her. Slowly. He gets what he's looking for. The shimmer of a smile she tries valiantly to hide in the darkness. He pauses over her. Looks at her mouth a nice long while and fights the urge to take it. Right. That's not why he's here. Sleep. Intimacy. That's what they're doing. When his eyes drift back to hers they're still tracked on his mouth. Yeah, she wants him too. He pecks a kiss on her forehead and rolls away leaving her rumbling another near inaudible laugh in his wake. Makes him proud.

Kate's no cuddler. Of course she wouldn't be. He's neither surprised nor disappointed. So when she rolls over on her side towards him, draws a knee up to touch his thigh, brings her head somewhat near his on the pillow and wiggles a cool finger inside the torn seam of his t-shirt to touch his skin, he gulps and almost giggles. His thumb finds the soft, inner part of her elbow in return. Castle falls asleep to the steady in-and-out of Kate's breathing in his ear. The most reassuring sound in the world.

**IVIVIVIVIVI**

The tittering clash of her cell phone vibrating on her nightstand wakes Kate up. Anything worth texting at, judging by the dim slate blue of the sky, 6:00 am must be important. She glances Castle's way to see if he's still asleep. Lashes shadowing his cheeks, tufts of wild hair sticking out and falling across his forehead, soft, steady exhalations coming from slightly parted lips - he was asleep. And damn he looked cute. Her bed suited him. She resists the urge to poke him, wake him up, just so she can see what color blue his eyes are this morning. What shade they are when they are in her bed. Her money's on cerulean. She'll find out soon enough. She rolls away and grabs for her phone.

It's from Esposito:

'_Shooters in custody. U were right. Not after you.'_

Kate is relieved. She honestly didn't think that bullet was intended for her. One doesn't go from professional hit men to snipers to a wild-eyed maniac taking potshots on the street. Even still he did almost succeed in killing her.

It would be quicker to call him but she doesn't want to wake Castle or get out of bed.

'_How'd you get him?'_

She waits, draws her knees up and hooks an arm around them. Takes only 60 seconds for his reply.

'_Was after the guy next to u. Tried again after we took his statement. 2 gsws. In icu. Should be ok.' _

She should have been there. She should be there now with them, part of the takedown, but of course Gates isn't going to call her in on the takedown of someone who *might* have tried to kill her. Protocol.

'_Thanks for letting me know.'_

She's off until a body drops. For the first time in, well she doesn't really remember how long, she's happy to have a little bit of free time. Has nothing to do with the man next to her. Sure it doesn't.

'_Want me to text castle?'_

She can't help her grin.

'_No. I'll tell him.' _

She will tell him. But for now she'll let him sleep. She'll let him sleep while she thinks of the best way to wake him up.

**IVIVIVIVIVI**

Mmm. Coffee. And lips. And tongue and fingers. Oh my. Then it stops. His eyes scratch open to find the reason. His hands are apparently considerably more advanced than his brain because when he focuses his eyes he finds Beckett straddling him and his own, obviously very intelligent hands, worked halfway up her back under her shirt. She leans forward and he thinks she is going to kiss him. She places long fingers on either side of his face instead and pears in. Her eyes flick back and forth as if they were reading something written on his irises before she's satisfied with what she finds there and pulls away.

"Hmm, that's what I thought."

She mumbles it low, clearly not meant for him, but he wants to know what secrets she and his eyes are keeping from him.

"What is?"

"Hmm?" She looks almost startled like she hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Nothing."

He starts to push, has the words on his tongue at the ready, and then remembers himself. No pushing. He refocuses his attention to the warm flesh under his fingers. Runs his hands up until he can almost touch her shoulders and lifts his knees so that she slides down closer to him. She comes willingly and places an open mouth above his collarbone. Want springs in him violent and needy. He restrains the urge to clasp her to him and never let her go. He closes his eyes and enjoys the feel of her lungs expanding under his hands and then releasing hot on his skin.

"I got a text from Esposito."

Woman's got to learn to pick her moments. Now is not the time to be bringing up Esposito.

"They got the guy."

He pulls her away from him and sits up.

"They got him. Was he after you? Is this connected to…" He doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to drag her mother's murder into bed with them.

"No. I must have just gotten in the way. He was going for the guy walking next to us. Ryan and Esposito took his statement after the incident and when he left the precinct the shooter tried again. Shooter's in custody and the guy's in ICU. Two gunshot wounds but Espo said he should recover."

Relief like a river washes over him; cleanses his soul. The shooter wasn't after her. She's alright. At least for right now, for today, she's alright. He crushes her to him, sticks his face in her neck and bites down on the words bubbling up. He knows he shouldn't say them but she has to know. He's lucky now to have her, to hold her in his arms and feel her breathe. If the next time she's not so lucky she has to know.

"Kate –" The emotional gravel in his own voice makes him stop, impossible to continue.

"I know, Castle."

Does she know? Does she know how much he loves her?

She pulls away, kisses the corner of his eye, and by the time his eyes are open again she's already halfway across the room.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a shower."

"Can I come?"

"In your dreams, Castle."

Yep, that's true. He wants to follow her. She turns back to him before she closes the door, enigmatic smile on her face, the one she hides.

"I made you coffee."

She does know. And she loves him too.

**A/N: This has not been betaed. All mistakes grammatical and otherwise are mine.**


	5. Chapter 5

Why didn't she let him come with her? Shower time is one of Kate's favorite parts of the day. It's where she collects herself and has her best ideas. Her best idea this morning is having him in the shower with her all soapy and wet. Damn. She missed that opportunity. Hopefully it will present itself again soon. Maybe even later today. He's got to shower sometime, right?

That's presuming a lot but she hopes he'll spend the day with her. How she wants him to. They have making up to do. Not making up with each other but making up for lost time.

Kate finds herself humming. And smiling. And picturing Richard Castle lathered in bubbles in her shower. She's in deep trouble. How had they gotten to this point so suddenly? Was it not just 8 hours ago that he showed up at her apartment and they fought? All it took was 8 hours. 3 ½ years and 8 hours. Okay, it's not *so* sudden.

No more waiting. She can do this. She *wants* to do this. Now is the time. Kate isn't ready. She's not ready for how this will change them. But no more waiting on that because she will *never* be ready. Never not be afraid that they will crash and burn and not only will she lose the man she loves (there, she thought it) but lose her partner too. It's too late to stop it now anyway. Once out that toothpaste can never be put back in the tube. She can do this and she wants to show him that she's willing and brave. And she will, everyday starting right now.

**IVIVIVIVIVI**

Despite not wanting to get out of bed when the shower turns on Castle immediately flees to the other end of the apartment. It's not possible to lay there hearing the whooshing cascade of water knowing that it's sliding down her naked body and not jerk the door open and act like a caveman. He needs distance. He finds it in the kitchen. Sips the coffee Kate made for him. A gesture he *knows* she put more thought and feeling into than just the average hot beverage. He savors every drop, just the way he likes it.

There is no food in her kitchen. This is not a surprise. It won't do. He's got a few minutes to go out and get something. Or a bunch of minutes if she washes her hair. Her hair. Best not think about her hair. What it would look like under the shower spray, feel like in his hands washing it, rinsing it, pulling it back, tangled in wet knots in his fist, using it to steer her head and grant him access to her neck, her chest… Aw hell. He wants to go in there. He's got to focus on something else, gain some prospective, control.

Castle goes back and puts his jeans on, grabs his coat, finishes his coffee and starts to leave. Keys. He doesn't have a key to her apartment and doesn't know where a spare might be. He could leave the door unlocked but even for just ten minutes that idea makes him nervous. He'll take her keys. He finds them along with a pad of sticky notes and leaves a note on the fridge saying he's gone to the store. That should be sufficient.

It gives him an oddly domestic thrill to lock the door with her keys when he leaves. Damn he's got it bad.

**IVIVIVIVIVI**

It takes him longer than he thought it would. The store is two blocks further than he'd remembered. But he comes back with everything he had set out for and more. Pancake mix, eggs, bacon, syrup, a can of whipped cream (you never know…), and strawberries. Also, milk, bread and peanut butter for later. He's visualizing not wanting to have to cook but needing to keep their strength up. There are also two tight little bouquets of sunflowers and deep crimson amaryllis both wrapped in parchment. He's ashamed that it was an impulse buy. He should have thought on his own about buying the woman flowers before seeing them at the checkout. She doesn't have to know that. He bought one more thing. He bought a toothbrush. He wonders if it's pushing too far to already be planning on leaving something at her apartment. It's kind of for her too. Fresh breath is a benefit. It's a risk he's willing to take.

He unlocks the door still thrilled to be using her keys. Her bedroom door is closed but his note on the refrigerator is gone. Castle sets about taking off his coat, putting away what he's not about to use and pulling out bowls and pans needed to make breakfast. Oh, flowers first though. Need to get them in water.

Castle's humming at the counter pouring pancake mix into a bowl when she comes up behind him, wraps one arm around him and stretches the other out to the counter, pulls their bodies flush, and nudges him, gently, into the cabinet. He chuckles at her mirroring his actions. She doesn't. Oh. It's like that. He pushes back. She pushes harder. He's frozen. Completely and utterly surprised and aroused. Who is this Kate? Oh, yes. It's the Kate he's always known. The Kate who is driven and decisive and takes what she wants. And she wants him. Well she can have him. He's always been hers anyway.

Fingers all warm and soft find their way under the hem of his shirt to the soft flesh a few inches above the waistband of his jeans. He wishes he'd done sit-ups this morning instead of going to the store. She tracks a path southward and he hopes she doesn't feel him gasp. Kate stutters a laugh. She did feel it. Damn. Teeth very lightly nip at his shoulder blade through the fabric. No fair that she's having all the fun. He wants to play too. He lifts the hand off the counter and kisses her palm, works his way to the crook of her arm. She shivers and jerks slightly when his tongue flicks at a vein. Ticklish, huh? That's good to know. He searches for his voice, finds it foreign and raspy.

"Do you want me to get on the counter?"

Kate's laugh directly into his back shoots through him like a bullet. Pierces his heart.

"No. I want you in my bed." She's muffled because her mouth is still against him but it's a voice that's new to him. One completely filled with want. For him.

He can't help but turn. He has to get a good look at her. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, face scrubbed clean and eyes gleaming black as night.

Fingernails scrape up into his hair and tug. "And then I want you in my shower."

His knees will give out any moment, he's sure of it.

"But first I want you to make me breakfast. I'm starving."

He blinks. Food? What the hell is she talking about? "What?"

"You don't want me to lose my strength do you?"

No he does not. He doesn't want lose his either and he hasn't eaten a thing since a late breakfast yesterday morning and doubts she has either. Fine. Food. But first…

He *HAS* to kiss her. It's been… how long… four hours since he's had her lips? That's too long. Kate beats him to it though. No matter. In this competition they are both winners. Parted, insistent lips find his and work on him. Arms slide around his neck. He needs her closer. He stoops down, hooks his arms around her lower back and straightens so that she's above him, pulling her just barely up off the ground. She moans when his tongue brushes past hers. They have to stop this or he has to take her to bed.

Her mouth slides slowly from his and across to his jaw.

"Castle, put me down."

Placing a kiss on her neck (he'll never get used to how soft it is there) he loosens his grip and her feet slip back to the floor.

"I bought whipped cream. We can have that for breakfast, right?" He breathes husky in her ear.

"No." She sighs. "That's our lunch."

**A/N: Only one more chapter to go, y'all. As always this has not been betaed. All mistakes grammatical and otherwise are mine.**


	6. Chapter 6

They cook together - Kate on bacon and egg duty, Castle on pancake and strawberry duty. He manages to talk her into tasting a whole strawberry while he holds it in his fingers. Past that she allows no other cooking related hanky-panky despite his best efforts. He doesn't mind. The prosaic domesticity of cooking, of dancing about one another with such ease, is enough. The hope of future mornings twists in his stomach and fills him completely the way food never could.

They eat at the island standing up, almost wordlessly in a comical rush. Castle doesn't taste a thing. It could all be burned. He would have no idea. 'Her bed and then her shower' - those words are all he knows.

Kate is smiling at him with every bite. It's tight-lipped and she tries to cover it with her hand or fork but it sneaks out around the edges. It waves at him coyly when she's not standing guard. He tries not to grin back like some idiot baboon but to no avail. Then again why not? Why not let her just see all of it. She's seen it all before, knows already how much he loves her. She would be a fool not to and Kate Beckett is nobody's fool. So fine, he'll just wear it all over his face. Own it. No sense it trying to hide it now.

With every passing bite he gets more nervous. Him. Nervous. It's ridiculous. He's not in high school for heaven's sake. But this is Kate. He had better not screw this up or be overeager. Though judging by the hungry look she's been wearing that has nothing to do with the plate in front of her his enthusiasm will not be a problem.

They finish eating in a blink of an eye. Swallowing his last bite he considers picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her into her bedroom. Right. Too much. He needs to tone it down.

Kate takes their plates and stacks them in the sink.

"I'll just rinse these and wash them later."

That's good. He just remembered the toothbrush he slipped in his back pocket earlier. Now is his chance to wash up. He excuses himself and makes a beeline to her bathroom.

IVIVIVIVIVI

In his haste Castle runs smack into the open vanity drawer. It will leave a bruise. It's so unlike Kate to leave a drawer pulled all the way out. She's a fastidious woman. He starts to close it and sees her reason why.

Half of the drawer is filled with her things: toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, cotton balls, Q-tips. The other half is completely empty except for a note written on the same post-it pad from her stationary he had used.

"This side's for you."

IVIVIVIVIVI

Kate is sitting crossed legged on the sofa with a look that could only be described as sheepish. He starts to speak but she beats him to it.

"You bought me flowers. They're beautiful."

Right. He'd forgotten all about those.

"You gave me a drawer."

"Half a drawer." She peers up at him through a dark fringe of lashes, lip pinned by her teeth.

"I love my half drawer." I love you.

Her lip makes a break for freedom.

"I love my flowers." She loves him.

"You do?" The words barely lift out of him they are so heavy.

"Yeah."

His fingers of their own volition find their way to her hairline, brush down her temple, hook her ear, and draw her nearer, foreheads almost touching. He has to pour some of the flood of happiness that is spilling over in his chest into her before it drowns him.

"I've seen a lot of drawers. This one's the best. This one's perfect." Lips against the hollow of her cheek murmur.

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up about the drawer and kiss me."

The serious urgency of her voice lights a fire in his blood. Tingles down his extremities and warms them.

He does as she says. He kisses hard. Nipping at her lip and roughly palming her neck. He told himself he wasn't going to be too eager but he can't stop. She doesn't seem to mind. Teeth clash against teeth and scrape. Tongues buffer and make everything right again. She grasps at his sleeve to draw him closer. The already wounded seam gashes open when she pulls and it rips halfway off his arm. He catches her surprised gasp with his mouth. It tastes like syrup and mingles on his tongue with the peppermint of his toothpaste.

He needs more of her, closer, harder; he needs to taste more than just her mouth. He's needy with her and every passing second only makes him more desperate. His fingers beg at her skin for alms, clutches at her t-shirt, pushing a hand up under the fabric. Completely in the way, it twists and pulls tight against her. She breaks away from him. He growls in protest until his eyes slide open and sees her tugging the offending shirt over her head. She's standing on her knees on the couch. Hmm, for that matter so is he. When did that happen?

Wow. She is so beautiful. Expanses of nearly perfect and unblemished skin punctuated with the scars that write the story of her life. He reaches for her. No longer pawing. Worshiping. Bone and flesh humming warm electricity under his hands. She doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just breathes harder with every brush of his fingertips.

He needs to see her laid completely bare before him, every bit of her. Yearns to learn every dip, every crevice of her body the same way he knows the rest of her. He'll work his way from the top down starting with her hair. There are just a few large pins holding it up but it takes his unskilled hands a moment to work them all out. His patience is rewarded with the fragrant cascade of tangled curls. He brushes through and lets his fingers get hung. Presses fingerprints into her scalp.

Still she says nothing but raises her hand to his chest, stills it over his heart, something dark and unfathomable clouding her eyes.

He fumbles pathetically at her bra clasp as if he were a fifteen year old before she rumbles a laugh and unhooks it herself. It has nothing to do with the slight thrilled tremor in his hands. She leaves it in place like a gift for him to unwrap. Unwrap it he does, one side then the other replacing lace with lips. His every exhalation rippling the surface of her skin like wind on water.

Her breath stutters and fingers come to splay and twitch at his back. He wants to drive her crazy. Make her just as wildly desperate as he is. Light fingers trail down her stomach slowly, dip in her navel. Tickling and causing her to hiss. Make her fingers curl. Oh yes, it's working.

He slips a finger into the waistband of her jeans and tugs. Finds a muscle in her neck and bites hard enough to get her attention, take her breath away, but not hurt her. She's positively gasping for air, heart thudding under his ear. Or maybe that is his own heartbeat? His thumb joins his index finger at the button, pushes together just right and it pops open. He's got her zipper halfway down, applying more pressure than expressly needed, when he finally breaks her.

"Castle!" It's a breathless warning.

He pulls away to find her eyes glassy and fearsome.

It stays him. Her voice and eyes act as a paralytic. He sees everything in those eyes. Witnesses his entire future divined there in crystal. It's taken devoted coaxing, fingers and mouth exercising delicate pressure to bring her breathless and she knocks the wind out of him with a look.

It's her turn now. She's yanking his shirt over his head with no help from him. He can't do anything but kneel, open-mouthed in wonder. How has he gotten so lucky?

IVIVIVIVIVI

Never has Richard Castle, conscious, stayed so quiet and still. Kate makes a metal note to save for later, for those times when he's vibrating with frenetic energy. She would laugh at his shocked immobility if it wasn't pared with a look of unbridled desire. Lust. She's seen this look in varying levels of revelation almost every day for the last twelve hundred days. It takes on a whole new meaning now. Now he's going to do something about it. It looks good on him.

She meant what she said. She wants him in her bed. The couch can come later but first she will have him there. She can't carry him, well, actually she can but she won't, so he'll have to find his legs and start moving.

"Can you walk?" It screeches out her throat much louder than she meant it.

It's a moronic question. No point in asking him anyway because she immediately covers his mouth with hers, stifling any possible answer. She thought she wanted to move but can't wait the 1.2 seconds for an answer. He does manage a nod. It's a terrible idea to wrench him to her but she does it anyway. This is not the way to get them off the couch. They both jump when flesh hits hot flesh. One of them loses their balance - she'll blame him later but it was probably her - and she doesn't even realize she's falling off the couch until elbow hits hard against wood, the coffee table gashes into her bare side and Castle lands with his full weight on top of her. Not the way she pictured him on top of her.

"Oh God, Beckett! Are you okay?"

"Ouch. Castle get off me."

"Are you bleeding?"

He moves off of her and she twists so she can get a better look at her side. It's gnarled and hot pink; the skin scraped up a half an inch wide and three inches long diagonally. It's going to produce a rainbow of a bruise but it's not deep enough to bleed.

"I'm fine."

His thumb runs down her rib far enough away from the offense that it doesn't sting. It does burn but in no way akin to pain.

"If we keep this up, Castle you're going to have to come up with one of your stories to explain to the guys why we're both beat to hell."

"Hmm… How 'bout we tell them it's from all the mind-blowing sex?"

"How 'bout no. I was thinking more along the lines of "Near-Fatal Car Accident Wounds Two.""

"They will never believe that. Too boring. At least let me throw in something about carjackers."

"As long as they believe it and doesn't involve me being naked I don't care what you tell them."

His eyes sweep down over her in a flash and an unauthorized blush rises hot in her cheeks when he does.

"You're naked."

"Yes. Thank you for stating the obvious. And I am only half naked."

"Well let's do something about that shall we?"

He has her jeans yanked down past her knees before she can say a word.

"Castle!"

He smirks with pride. Her exclamation does nothing to deter him from finishing his task. Kate jerks her head and eyes over toward the bedroom, her voice lost somewhere in the corner with her blue jeans. He processes her unspoken insistence and blazes a path, speaking breadcrumbs along the way.

"Right…" Her ankle.

"You…" Behind her knee.

"Want…" Along the lace at her hipbone.

"Me…" Her ribs.

"In…" Her sternum.

"Your bed." Her mouth.

No. She wants him here and now. The bed can wait. Silly idea anyway. The rug's fairly soft. Slight risk of carpet burns but what's one more abrasion? They'll get to the bed eventually.

"Come on."

What? He's standing over her. How'd she let him get so far away? He offers his hand and she's happy to have it. There seems to be something wrong with her legs. So unsteady. He notices and grins like an idiot at having made her literally weak at the knees. Point Castle. Not that she's keeping score.

They make it almost to the door and she pulls away. He glances back at her with slight trepidation as if all the sudden she's come to her senses and changed her mind. She throws him the fiercest, knee-buckling, sex-kitten of a smile she can possibly muster as a reassurance and saunters to the kitchen.

His eyes flare to near saucer proportions when she rounds the refrigerator door with whipped cream in hand. Oh, he's making this too easy. He messed with her. Now she just has to mess with him a little back. It's only right. With a flick of her thumb she pops the top off. It flies and skids to a stop somewhere on her kitchen floor. She tilts and sprays, candy sweet in her mouth.

"I want a taste." He growls and she'll be damned but it gives her a shiver.

She holds out the can to him but he grabs her face with both hands instead. He tastes her, the heat of him turning the sugar on her lips to caramel, melting them. When she drops the can it hits hard enough to leave a divot in the hardwood.

They're never going to make it to the bed.

**A/N: That's all she wrote folks. Drive safe and don't forget to tip your waitress.**

**Special thanks to the amazing _DeadPigeon_ who has been immensely supportive and a joy, the lovely_ chezchuckles_ who makes me want to be a better writer, _HuntingPeace, AlwaysCastle, knittingeek, pealee _and_ tiff098765_, all of whom reviewed every chapter. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, alert, favorite and/or just READ! I would also like to thank the academy… Just playing. I'm saving my Oscar speech for when that actually happens.**


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